North Cape

What was his name? — Gadsen. Maybe the question, he had raised about the Norwegians sending help was only a blind to allay any suspicion that he, Teleman, might have. God, maybe they were all three in on it. They could be waiting to see how things would work out before they moved. He would just have to waif and see, he decided. But Teleman knew one thing: nobody was going to put a bullet in his back, not after all that he had been through. If he was going to die, then it was going to be from a Russian bullet.

Teleman unconsciously sank back a little farther against the gear. His face took on for the briefest of moments the haunted look of a hunted animal. His eyes were narrow and glittering in the. uncertain light and the skin of his face drew into a drum tightness. If one of the three sailors had been watching, what he would have seen in Teleman's face might have prevented a portion of tragedy.

Folsom interrupted Teleman's thoughts as he spread out a more localized map of the North Cape and pointed to a small indentation on — the western side of the deep gash cut in the coastline by the Porsangerfjord. "This is the point where they landed. In this weather it will take them almost a day to travel far enough to reach the lifeboat. Now that Mac has had a crack at them, we can safely assume that we've gained another six to eight hours while they chase themselves through the boondocks after the phony trail he left behind. But we have now used up nearly four hours of that time. So, all in all, we are probably still five hours ahead of them, until they get far enough along the coast to spot the lifeboat.

"Now," he said, staring speculatively at Teleman, "the Russians probably had a darn good idea where you were. But until Mac hit them they probably had no idea you had any help at. all. We. can-expect them to be confused for a while, wondering how many others are waiting in ambush along the way. I think we can consider the RFK as a hole card — although whether a joker or an ace is hard to tell at this point."

"You know, Pete," Gadsen interrupted, "if we do get into enough of a bind that we do have to call the Norwegians for help, that damned sub could very well be monitoring for just such a transmission. If that happens, they will probably just move in and shell the. hell out of us. They must be carrying some kind of — deck gun or surface-to-surface rockets."

"Yeah, I thought of.that too. If we do have to call on the Norwegians, it will be up to the captain to decide whether he wants to open fire on the sub Or not. If he does, there will. be no way of hiding the fact. Talk about conditions for an international incident, whew!"

"Kind of in a bind ain't we, then?"

"Precisely, so lets git. Here's our destination," he said, pointing again to the base, marked on the map in red. "We had better move out of these trees and onto the cliffs. It will be rougher going, but we can follow the coastline for a while. About here it turns into tundra, which should be swept pretty free of any deep snow." He indicated a point about six miles down the coast. "There, I expect, it'll be a toss-up whether or not the tundra is passable. If so, we go across. If not, we follow the coast." Teleman leaned closer to examine the chart. It showed an irregular jut of land that bulged around the tundra for a distance of nearly thirteen miles. The contour lines on the chart indicated that the bulge was composed mainly of steep crags and shelving granite, leading to a sharp drop of fifty feet or so to the water. Once past this bulge, the land flattened again to narrow beach and even narrower pine-and scrub-covered terrain fronting the tundra.

"Pray for the tundra," he murmured. "That climb around the point will be hell."

"There is one other possibility," Folsom said thoughtfully. '1 had thought of heading south to Kistrand at the head of Porsangerfjord. The only trouble with that is this range of hills, just about here. They rise to a little over a thousand feet in less than the two miles between us and the town. And the only pass or anything resembling a pass leads west, and then south for a total distance of thirty-five miles. According to the map, the pass is at eight hundred feet. Teleman could never make it.

"So then, the only choice we have is to go west toward the naval station at Tanafjord. If the weather breaks, the ship will be able to reach us with the helicopter on the way." Teleman nodded acquiescence. "All right. If it turns out that somebody has to carry me, don't say I didn't wain you. Either.carry me or shoot me," he added, looking sharply from face to face. He thought he saw a faint tinge of surprise in Folsom's eyes, but he could not be sure. It did not make any difference, he thought. He must watch all three of them closely now.